Sam Knew
by writing24seven
Summary: Sam was right, unicorns are real, but they aren't your standard fairytale. They like to kill, and only the Winchesters stand in their way. Sam&Dean WHUMPAGE!
1. unicorns exist, Dean

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean Winchester. I do not own Sam Winchester. I do not own Supernatural. I don't even own the frickin' unicorns (do I?) maybe I do, but it doesn't matter. You can have 'em if you want.

Note: this next quote was taken from the episode "Houses of the Holy".

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_"Dean, there's ten times as much lore about angels as there is about anything else we've hunted."_

_"You know what? There's a ton of lore on unicorns too. In fact, I hear that they ride on silver moonbeams and they shoot rainbows out of their ass!"_

_"Wait, there's no such things as unicorns?"_

Dean grimaced as he recalled that conversation that had taken place between him and his brother. He would never live it down.

"So. Unicorns don't exist, eh?" Sam's brown eyes danced with victory as he watched his older brother make a face.

"Shut up. I'm sure you weren't expecting evil unicorns, so technically your idea of a unicorn doesn't exist."

"Whatever floats your boat." The bed creaked as Dean stood up and loomed over his brother who sat on his own bed. This was the only time he was able to loom over his brother at all anymore. That power flew out the door as Sam stood up, towering over him instead.

Dean turned on his heel, and Sam relaxed his stance. At the last moment Dean turned and planted his palms in his younger brother's chest, knocking him flat on his back on the bed.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Pleasantries aside, Dean changed the subject, "How do we get rid of them?"

"Why don't we just bring the whole she-bang when we go visit them again?" The boys had only caught a glimpse of the unicorns the night before as they ran from the house they had just rampaged, blood smeared across the silver horns protruding from their foreheads and proving the town's claims of attacking unicorns.

"I'll have the gun with the silver bullets and you get the rock salt," Dean said as he sorted through the guns he had brought in from the car.

"Why can't I have the gun with the bullets?"

"It's too dangerous for you sweetie."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Dean slapped the rock salt gun against his brother's chest and grinned, "we don't want you trying to shoot me again like back in the asylum, do we?"

"I doubt the unicorns have the power of mind control," Sam snorted, tucking the gun into his waistband.

"That's not what I was worried about. You might suddenly be taken over by rage at my good looks. People have shot others for worse, you know."

Sam didn't answer, too busy making sure his hand wouldn't pull out the gun and shoot his brother in the chest. If it wouldn't have proven Dean's point, he probably would have. "Let's go," Sam said through clenched teeth, already heading toward the door.

Nightfall came quickly, dropping the temperature like a bucket of ice water, cold and unappreciated. Sam pulled his jacket closer around him and focused back on the house, the next on the unicorn's hit list. How did he know this was _the_ house? The unicorns didn't seem to be very smart, they were attacking the houses in order, one house after another from left to right.

Apparently that area had been the home of the unicorns thousands of years ago, and the people had killed them all to take over the land, and now they were back for revenge. What didn't make sense was that the appearance of the unicorns seemed... random. There was no specific date and they seemed to be attacking the entire town, not just a family.

"Do we have to cremate their bones?" Sam whispered, twisting his head toward his brother who had dozed off against the house wall.

Dean jolted awake, "What? Oh, I don't know. I heard some rumors that they are real unicorns searching revenge for their own ancestors. If this doesn't work, we can look for the bones of who-knows-how-many-unicorns-are-out-there."

"Great plan, especially if this doesn't work and they kill us."

Dean's retort was cut off as a crash shook the house, sending them to their feet instantly. With unspoken instruction, Dean took the lead with Sam covering him, gun in hand. Kicking open the door they stormed inside, ready for anything. Well, almost anything. The unicorns were smarter than they looked, having planted an ambush.

They attacked the household with stealth, taking down the couple living there first (apparent by the blood pooled on the ground), taking up posts at the door and making noise to bring the Winchesters in. Three angry unicorns surrounded the boys, lethal horns pointed at their chests.

"Drop!" Dean shouted, open firing as he dropped the floor, realizing - too late - that on the floor was no better than standing up. Instead of being speared by a horn, he would be trampled by hooves reinforced with over a thousand pounds.

Sure enough, something slammed into his shoulder in an explosion of pain. The moment the offending hoof lifted, he rolled away, feeling the rush of air as it traveled downward again.

Springing to his feet, Dean fought away the waves of pain emanating from his shoulder and looked around for Sam. To his relief, Sam hadn't listened to his stupid instructions, sprinting back out the door instead. That action probably saved Dean's life as two of the unicorns deciding to go after the person trying to escape, rather than the one groveling on the floor.

The largest unicorn - obviously the leader - looked an ugly horse that was impossibly skinny with burning red eyes, stood before him, not moving. Dean swung up his left arm - the right one useless from the unicorn's attack - and shot the beast point blank between the eyes.

Frozen with shock, Dean barely had time to dodge the sharp horn as it slashed forward. _How is that possible?_ Instead of burrowing itself in the beast's head and rendering it dead, the bullet sailed through the beast as if it wasn't there, thudding into the wall across the room. The unicorn hadn't even faltered. It's image hadn't flickered and it only stared at him as if nothing happened.

Maybe the unicorn was an illusion, an illusion that could crush things under its feet. Dean didn't know what to make of it, what exactly, was a unicorn? He began to wish that he had read more fairytale books as a child. _Even though these unicorns look nothing like any unicorns I've ever heard of._

A cry from behind him caught Dean's attention and fear tightened in his stomach. Sam probably hadn't had better luck than he did.

"Sam!" Dean ignored the unicorn who had backed up again, sprinting out the door with a prayer that the beast wouldn't spear him through the back. The scene that unfolded before him made his heart jump in his throat. His brother was pinned to wooden fence, not by his own will, but by the white horn in his side, red leaking down his white shirt. The other unicorn twisted its head toward Dean's approach, its eyes locking on its partner coming after Dean.

"I wasn't able to shoot it," Sam gasped, one of the hands holding the horn in his side twitched toward the fallen gun. Dean and the larger unicorn lunged for it at the same time. The unicorn's hoof descended downard, intent on crushing it to a scrap of useless metal. Dean's hand reached for it, desperate to save his brother.

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Don't worry the next chapter shall be up soon, I hate when people say that but don't, but I mean it, seriously. Haha, watch as I never post it. But I will.

Note: This is my first fanfic, I've been reading them for years, but never wanted to turn my writing toward fanfiction because I would rather write my own original stories than something I can never publish (or own T.T), but recently I decided to try it since it would be good exercise for my writing. Enjoy!

Oh yeah, and reviews would be awesome so I know I'm not just writing to myself :)


	2. pigheaded brother

Dean let out an explosion of breathe as the third unicorn knocked him over, landing hard on the salt gun clutched protectively to his chest. He was quicker than the damn ugly beast. That was a good sign.

The two unicorns had him beneath their feet, and they were ready to use that to their advantage. _Why couldn't they have nice soft feet like humans? It's not fair they get weapons up top and bottom._ As Dean lifted the gun, the beasts rose into the air to crush him beneath their weight.

"Dean, move out of the way!" Sam gasped out, sliding down the fence as the unicorn - who had him pinned - pulled its horn away to watch the action between his comrades and the human. Sam squeezed his side and took a shaky step toward Dean, only to get knocked back into the fence by his captors hindquarters, the air rushing from his lungs.

"Get away from me, you ugly son of a bitch," Dean shouted, squeezing the trigger. The elder Winchester locked eyes with the leader for a split second before the unicorn faded away into the night. Dean was frozen for a moment, he had seen something strange in its eyes. He had seen... intelligence. It wasn't possible. The unicorn was only an ugly, deformed horse that needed more sleep to fix its red eyes. They couldn't think for themselves, could they?

Remembering his brother and the other two unicorns, Dean swung the gun around, but the four-legged creatures had disappeared. They were like a pack of bullies, take out the leader out and the groupies transform into sniveling cowards. That was fine by him, he didn't need to deal with two other killer unicorns. Before Dean could relax, the giant unicorn flickered back into existence, the same spot it had been moments ago. It looked pissed. The salt gun hadn't worked very well, if at all.

"Why don't you just die?!" Dean pumped several more rounds of salt into the unicorn, but it barely flickered. God, were these things invincible as well as ugly? No wonder the people had killed them off years ago. The older Winchester heard the crunch of gravel as Sam shuffled toward him, and he was struck with an idea. The gun didn't work because the bullets stopped short of its target, but what if they were struck by silver? "Sam, hit him with the silver knife."

As if it understood, the white animal sidestepped Sam's clumsy lunge and spun around to planting both hooves on his chest. Sam went crashing through the bushes, his head connecting with a stone birdbath. Slumping down, the silver knife slid from Sam's limp fingers.

Dean's cry of worry became a cry of pain. His hands instinctively wrapped around the horn sticking from his shoulder, crimson blossoming across his leather jacket. _I liked this jacket._ Fiery red eyes bored into Dean, inches from his face, and its breath smelled like old blood, making him gag. The pain was unimaginable, wave after wave of pain radiated from his shoulder and throughout his body. His already bruised shoulder screamed in pain as it was ground ruthlessly into the gravel. Dean tried to hold his body still, afraid to aggravate his wound any more. The blood smeared horn was so big, it probably made a hole in his shoulder big enough to hit golf balls through.

_Remember._ The words were whispered in Dean's head so softly he nearly missed it. _Remember? What am I remembering?_ He was starting to hear things, that wasn't a good sign. The horn dug a little deeper and Dean looked back up at the unicorn who was uncomfortably close. What did this animal want?

"If you don't mind, can you tell me how I can kill you? You seem to be immune to the usual voodoo," Dean managed to gasp through the pain, trying to distract himself. It only blinked at him, but he noticed the slight twitch of its giant mouth. _Oh my God, it tried to smirk. I'm going fucking crazy._ The pain in his shoulder was elevated slightly as the unicorn and its horn faded away. The last thing to vanish was its angry red eyes. God, he hated those eyes.

The yard was silent, there were no neighbors for a mile and no one to call for help. What would Dean tell them anyway, that he got mauled by a killer unicorn? He would probably end up in the insane asylum instead, but that couldn't happen, he needed to rescue people from the evil unicorn. _Maybe I should save them the trouble and check myself in to the insane asylum.._. Dean rolled onto his side, fingers gliding carefully over his wound. It was a perfectly round hole that was oozing blood, fantastic. Double checking to make sure the unicorns didn't pop up again like they seemed to like to do, Dean pushed himself to his feet. He didn't care where the unicorns went to, or why they left so soon, he had other things to worry about. Stumbling toward the birdbath where his brother lay, Dean collapsed to his knees, scanning Sam for other injuries as he called his brother's name.

"Sam, are you okay?" Dean shook his brother's shoulders gently, looking relieved as his brother opened his eyes. Sam weakly slapped his brother's hand away as he tried to open his jacket where the unicorn had pinned his against the fence. Dean scowled, "What are you doing, you got stabbed through the side!"

The younger Winchester gave him a weak smile and pulled open his jacket to reveal a torn, blood soaked shirt with a long, thin cut down his side, "It only skimmed me."

Dean fell back with a pained sigh, "That's a relief. I wish I could say the same."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing." Dean tried to cover his shoulder with his hand, but to no avail.

"I'm not blind you know. Let me see it." Dean lowered his hand and his brother blanched, "Oh my God it looks like someone took a drill to your shoulder."

"It's not that bad. Let's get out of here before Mr. Fugly decides he wants to visit us again. Nothing we tried could kill him, and he left of his own accord. That's not good." Dean started to rise, but slid back down with a groan, who knew unicorns could be such a pain in ass. _I wonder if they really do shoot rainbows out of their ass..._

Sam helped his brother up and used him as a crutch for a moment as his vision swam. That birdbath sure clocked him one, the bump felt like a bird had laid an egg on the back of his head. Supporting each other, the boys stumbled to the Impala, Dean sliding into the drivers seat. Sam rolled his eyes, Dean could have been in a coma and still insisted on driving. "Dean, I think I should drive, you're hurt pretty bad."

"I'm not the one with a giant bump on the head and probably a concussion," Dean started the engine, fighting back the blackness that overtook the edges of his vision. Maybe he should have bandaged up the wound before he lost so much blood.

"I'm not the one about to pass out," The younger Winchester pointed out, watching his brother's furious blinking to keep awake. Dean ignored Sam and put his foot on the gas, peeling away from the curb and roaring away from the trashed house. If someone had been watching the road at two in the morning, they would have seen a '67 Chevy Impala weaving across the road, picking up speed as it went.

Inside the car, Dean had lost consciousness, his head resting on the wheel as if thinking, and his foot heavy on the gas pedal. Sam grabbed for the wheel, yelling his brother's name. "Dean, take your foot off the pedal!" God, he knew this was going to happen, why didn't he drive? The passing trees had faded into a blur, the engines roar drowning out Sam's pounding heart. They were going to die, not from fighting the supernatural, but in a car crash because his brother was too pig-headed to let him drive.

Slapping his brother across the face, Sam kept the other hand on the wheel, trying to steer the out of control car on the road that seemed to become thinner as he weaved. A sharp curve loomed up ahead, nearly a hairpin turn that if not taken while in control of the vehicle, would flatten the car against the concrete wall that was supposed to "protect them" from oncoming traffic. A small groan passed Dean's lift, and his head tilted slightly as if he was trying to lift it, but it proved to heavy for the amount of energy he possessed.

"Your precious car - your baby - is going to be a pile of scrap metal if you don't step on the brake now, Dean! All you have to do is move your foot to the left, then you can pass out again for all I care!" Sam cried, now holding the steering wheel with both hands to help take on the impossible turn. The words seemed to process in Dean's head and his brow furrowed as he demanded his foot to slide over.

Sam's head nearly collided with the windshield as the car tried to barrel on as Dean stomped on the brake. The wheel came to life in Sam's hand, fighting for control. The highway divider was too close to stop, Sam had to take the turn. Wrenching the wheel to the right, he prayed they wouldn't collide as the tires squealed in protest to the abuse. The smell of burning rubber filled the car, only another minor annoyance as Sam watched his life flash before his eyes. Ten feet away. Seven feet. The car wasn't getting enough traction to pull out of the slide. Five feet. Sam had only enough time to let out a strangled cry as the car broad sided the concrete divider, getting thrown into Dean as the glass exploded inward, the metal of the driver's door buckling on impact. The driver's door. Dean's door.

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Enjoy! I spend hours writing this for you. Write me a sentence (or word) of praise or criticism if you wouldn't mind :)


	3. more ghosts?

You know what, I'm going to stop saying the chapters are going to be longer. They will be what they are :P Just think, the shorter they are, the faster they get posted!

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Sam woke to the wailing of sirens, its red and blue lights pierced his eyes, even behind the cover of eyelids. Moaning, he shifted his position, something was sticking uncomfortably in his side and his head had been resting on something soft but uncomfortable. Sam opened his eyes, closing them again as wet and sticky liquid dripped into his eyes. _What happened?_ The scrape of metal against metal set off alarm bells in his head as memories rushed back. The collision on the highway. The thing that had been poking his side was Dean's elbow.

"Dean!" The younger Winchester croaked, forcing his head to the left, and wished he hadn't. His brother was leaning against the mutilated door, his bloodied head would have been resting against the window if it had been there, but was now left to rest against the air. Dean's arms were neatly tucked in his lap like nothing was wrong, his left arm soaked in blood where glass had made nest in his skin.

Sam was so concentrated on his brother, the face that loomed up beside him made him flinch, its eyes already analyzing his condition. The scrape of metal he had heard was a medic pulling open his door. Dean would be pissed when he saw his car. Sam wondered how long he had been out as he watched the medic give him instructions. Didn't the medic realize he was speaking too softly and too fast? Sam didn't bother trying to understand him, he had only one worry on his mind.

"My brother, he's injured," Sam muttered, tilting his head back onto the headrest. Slamming into the concrete wall had not helped his concussion, seeing two paramedics when he was sure there was only one, unless they were twins. Sam gave a start, the car was moving sideways - no wait - _he_ was moving sideways, being pulled out by the paramedic. Unable to bring his feet under him, the medic decided to carry him instead, how embarrassing. Before he could protest, Sam was lain on a stretcher and wheeled to the ambulance. He twisted his head in time to see Dean being gently carried out. He looked awful, the dark red of dried blood made his pale face seem translucent, his clothes smeared with the red liquid that kept him alive. How could Dean be alive if he was wearing his life all over his clothes?

Dean was loaded into the ambulance beside him, an oxygen mask already strapped to his face. A paramedic hopped in and slammed the door shut before turning his attention back to his patients. The vehicles occupants lurched forward as the ambulance took off, its sirens screaming. Sam relaxed, he couldn't do anything more for now. His eyes drifted closed, the sirens growing softer in his head.

Beeping noises. Soft voices. The unnaturally clean smell. And upon his eyes, white dominated his vision. Sam was back in the place that had recently become more familiar to him than his home. _The unicorns. The accident. Dean._ Sam shot up in his bed, nearly giving the nurse, who had been checking up on him, a heart attack.

"Where's my brother?" Sam demanded, rubbing his sore head that seemed happy to give him a free migraine.

"He's in surgery right now, we need to close the gash in his shoulder before he bleeds out," The nurse said, running her fingers across the back of his head to check the bruise and then moved down to check the bandages on her patient's side. Sam looked relieved, that was good news, before he bleeds out meant it hasn't happened. "It looked like someone took a drill to his shoulder."

"That's what I said."

"So what happened to him, it couldn't have happened during the car accident."

_Well, my brother got speared through by an evil unicorn. _"He fell on metal pole sticking out of the ground." It may have sounded absurd, but more sane than the truth. The lie came easily, as natural as breathing and eating to Sam, he had learned the important lesson of giving people what they want to hear. To prove his point, the nurse nodded sympathetically. "When can I see my brother?"

"He should be out of surgery soon, but unfortunately, you won't be able to see him for quite a while. You were the lucky one, coming out of the accident with only a concussion and a few bumps and bruises."

"Knowing that I'm doing well while my brother is in critical condition makes me feel so much better, thank you. May I check-out now, there are some important things I need to tend to." Sam hadn't forgotten about the unicorn's rampage. The next strike would be tonight at one thirty in the morning. _Which would technically make it tomorrow._ Sam ground his teeth, they needed to find a way to get rid of the beasts before they killed the entire town. His job would have been a whole lot easier if the people would believe the rumors of the unicorns and stayed out of their homes for a while, but no, they had to prove they weren't sissies by staying in their house. _People as such a-_

"Yes, you may leave now. You need to sign some things out at the front desk. I suggest you come back this afternoon if you want to see your brother." Sam thanked the nurse and parted ways, errands he needed to run were already filing themselves neatly up in his mind. Fighting for the number one spot on the list was between calling Bobby to pick up Dean's car, or making sure their weapon stash in the trunk hadn't been found yet.

Sam decided on Bobby first, calling the hunter to request a favor, "Hey Bobby, would you mind picking up Dean's car for me?" Sam gave the location of the car and added one more thing before hanging up, "and would you mind fixing it up a little bit before my brother sees it? He's going to have an epileptic fit when he sees it."

"Sure thing Sammy, I'm already in my car." Sam hung up, relieved that they weren't far from Bobby's home, or they would have been in real trouble. His next stop was the motel where his laptop waited for him expectantly. Remembering their car was a scrap of metal currently, Sam had to get a lift to a car rental, using his fake credit card to rent a car,

"Dean is going to love this car," Sam muttered, his voice drowned out under the puttering and groans of the little black car that looked like it was older than dirt. Probably was.

Sam's eyes kept drifting closed as he searched for unicorn lore all over the world. The information he picked up seemed to contradict each other. Every site he visited, he wrote down the authors name, hoping to find one nearby that he could visit for more information. The unicorn lore was so expansive, but Sam had no idea what was true and what was fake.

"Black unicorns, pink unicorns, healing powers, and always selfless and gentle." Sam slammed his head on the desk, "They forgot to mention 100 bullshit. Why can't they be like most unicorns? I would rather have a loving white pony with healing powers than ugly, bloodthirsty donkeys."

Satisfied that there was nothing he missed, Sam began search for the authors who lived nearby. Only a scarce handful were within driving distance, and the Sam doubted half of them even believed what they talked about. Eager to get it over with, Sam stuffed the papers with the addresses in his pocket and crammed his lanky body into the tiny vehicle he had rented.

An hour later found nine of the eleven people - who knew about unicorn lore - complete duds, from incompetent thirty year olds living with their moms, to people who were out of town or dead. Sam sighed as he pulled up to a broken down house, he began to think this was pointless, and he wanted to get back to Dean, not to mention his head ached like a bitch.

"Hi, I'm a newspaper reporter writing about the lore on unicorns. I noticed that you hosted a web page about it, would you mind if I asked you a few questions?" The middle-aged woman peered at Sam curiously, the smoke from her cigarette obscuring her face slightly, not that Sam minded, his stomach was feeling slightly queasy.

"Oh, that article? Well I'm glad someone is finally taking an interest in my work. I saw a unicorn a few years back. It spoke to me and it sang karaoke before sprouting wings and taking off into the clouds." The sarcasm dripped off her voice as she leaned against the door frame, one hand holding back the little kid who appeared beside her, screeching his head off.

"Sorry for bothering you, thanks for your time," Sam said, moments before the lady shut the door in his face. Yet another waste of his time. As he approached the car down the driveway, Sam spotted someone standing beside his car.

"Who are you?" Sam asked, drawing abreast to the young stranger who seemed to be in his late teens with spiky blonde hair.

The blonde teen looked up and smiled, "My name is Nate, and you are Sam, right? I heard that you needed information about unicorns. It just so happened we have this journal that's been passed down through the family. One of my ancestor's logged everything he knew about the unicorns and it tells what really happened to the unicorns because he was mayor at the time.

"How do you know my name?"

"This isn't the smallest town," Nate laughed, "we may be spread far apart but we tend to pass around gossip pretty quick."

"That's good to know." Sam said, taking the journal that was offered to him, opening it up to find flowing script filling the pages. "Can I borrow this?"

"Of course, you can keep it, I have no need for it."

"Really?" Sam raised an eyebrow, "Don't you want it for like memories or something?"

"I don't need it, trust me." Nate gave Sam a slap on the shoulder and a wink, "See you soon."

Sam watched the kid swagger off, holding the book in his hand as if it were treasure. It may just be a dud like the others, but he could have also struck gold. He hoped it was the latter. That kid was a bit of an oddball, but Sam had met worse. Getting into the car, Sam pulled out his cellphone that had come to life in his pocket.

"Hello?" Sam held the phone to his ear with one hand, while steering with the other back to the motel, there was no need to visit anymore people who don't know jack about the supernatural.

"Where the hell are you?" Sam recognized the voice instantly, even if it seemed to be a bit weaker than usual. "You leave your brother to die in the hospital while you go play around? I'm glad you care about my health... Dude, the nurses here are freaking hot."

Sam rolled his eyes, Dean seemed to be feeling better already. "I've been looking up on unicorn lore and visiting the authors who wrote the articles. Some kid came up to me and gave me a journal that he claims to tell about what happened to the unicorns in this town."

"Have you figured out how to kill those sons of bitches?"

"Well, no. I'm hoping the journal will give me a hint, we may be digging up some graves."

"They provide burials for unicorns? I doubt it will be that easy." The sound of voices in the background momentarily drowned out Dean's voice, "Sammy, hurry up and get me out of here, the nurses are hot, but not that hot."

Sam laughed, "Sure thing, I'm glad you're feeling..."

"Sammy? Hey Sam, are you okay?" Dean asked as Sam trailed off, the sound of an engine shutting off was the only indication he was still on the line with his brother. "Sammy?"

"Hold on, I'll call you back," Sam's voice was hushed and - before Dean could protest - hung up.

"Don't you dare hang up on me Sammy, what's going on?"

Sam stowed the cellphone in his pocket and pushed open the car door, clutching the silver dagger he had hidden in the glove box. He could have sworn he saw a woman pounding on the window in the house across the street as he came to a halt at a stop light. Sam probably wouldn't have noticed if the lights hadn't been flickering and an image of a ghost attacking the same woman hadn't swam into his mind. Being a psychic had its perks.

The door swung open for Sam, and he stepped inside. As he opened his mouth to see if the woman was still inside (or alive), a scream made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Scrambling up the stairs, Sam kicked open the door, surprising the apparition that held the woman up against the wall. Sam lunged at the ghost, swinging the knife at its chest.

"Traitor," the ghost moaned, dropping the woman and turning his attention on the bigger threat. One hand swiped the knife hand away while the other struck Sam in the chest, sending the young Winchester flying into the wall. "She's a traitor." the ghost turned back to the woman, running his fingers across her chest until blood ran freely from the cuts and the woman screamed in agony.

Sam lunged for the knife again, but the ghost hadn't forgotten him, catching Sam across the back with his nails. "Cut your fingernails," Sam gasped, scrambling back as the ghost loomed over him. A solid blow to the side sent him sailing into the bed side table, sending the lamp crashing to the floor.

Pain shot up Sam's back and his head screamed at him in fury. He fought for breath when hands closed off his air passage (when did the ghost press him up against the wall by his neck?) and curses died in his throat. Through tunnel vision Sam watched the ghost moan about traitors, his bloody claws bared.

The hand lunged downward in a movement that would surely decapitate Sam. It would have, if the ghost hadn't jerked back, striking Sam across the arm instead of a fatal blow. The ghost vanished, replaced by the shaking woman holding Sam's knife. "Who the hell are you, and what the hell was that?"

It took a few minutes of deep breaths for Sam to be able to croak out a satisfying answer, "That was a ghost, and he seemed angry with you. Did you recognize him?" Sam inspected his aching arm, the deep gashes made him surprisingly glad, it could have been his head rolling across the floor instead.

The woman looked shocked, and she slid down the wall to join Sam, "That was my late husband. He died years ago," her voice wavered, "I made a mistake and cheated on him, and he killed himself. What was he doing here? Why did he appear now?"

Sam leaned his head gently against the wall and sighed, _What was going on? Why were ghosts appearing in the town all at the same time for no reason?_

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I spend all this time typing up a story for you, don't you think its only fair to write a sentence of praise or criticism or even just a hello? Heck, even one word would be nice. :)


	4. Decoding

"Sorry Ma'am, I have to go," Sam struggled to his feet, grimacing in pain as the jagged cuts in his arms stretched to accommodate his jerky movements. The room tilted dangerously, but he didn't have time to rest. Dean was probably worried about him, he did hang up suddenly.

"Wait, who are you? You just bust in here, save my ass, and then leave?" The woman scrambled up beside him, grabbing his arm.

Sam thought for a moment, "Yeah." He shook off the woman's arm, and then in a flash of pity, elaborated, "I hunt those kinds of things -"

"Like the ghostbusters?!"

The young Winchester rolled his eyes, "Yes, like the ghostbusters. Anyways, I just happened to be passing by and now I really have to leave. My brother is in the hospital."

The woman's hands flew up to her mouth, "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry. What happened?"

"Car accident. I really need to go." Sam left the woman standing on the porch and folded himself into the rental car.

The sliding glass doors swept open before Sam, letting the cool air rush over him. It was hot during the day, and freezing at night, what a great combination. Sam's jaw dropped as he caught sight of the commotion in the hospital lobby.

Dean looked terrible, the left side of his face was bruised, speckled with cuts and his shoulder had red blush peeking through the hospital gown. How did Sam know this when Dean should have been resting in his room? Because the older Winchester was battling it out in the lobby with two security guards, and a few nurses flapping around like worried birds.

"Let go of me, my brother needs my help!" Dean growled, wincing as the guards latched onto his arms, jarring his battle wound from the unicorn.

Sam scrambled forward, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder, "Dean, I'm here, sorry about giving you a scare."

Dean stared at Sam for a moment, his floundering faltered "You bastard." Before Sam could reply, Dean's knees buckled. He would have made it to the floor if the security guards hadn't still had a firm grip on him.

Seated back on his bed, Dean took the chance to scan over his little brother. His eyes locked onto Sam's bloody arm. "You're hurt."

"I caught sight of a ghost in a window as I was talking to you." Dean paled visibly, sinking back into the pillows with a groan. "What is it, are you okay?" Sam leaned forward, trying to see what was wrong. He jumped as Dean's hand suddenly shot across his vision, picking up a discarded newspaper by his bed.

Without looking at it, Dean tossed it onto his brother's lap, "There was a murder last night inside of a locked room. Two days ago a man vanished into thin air. There has also been several victims dead from puncture wounds to the neck, their blood sucked out."

It was Sam's turn to pale, and his eyes skimmed over the articles. A picture of a victim caught Sam's eye. "Vampire," he said grimly, throwing down the newspaper. "Not only do we have fairy tale unicorns haunting our asses, now we have ghosts and vampires too?"

"That's what it looks like."

"I've never heard of so many supernatural beings in one place."

Dean rubbed his eyes with his good hand, He had his ass kicked - literally - by a couple of ugly horses. How were they going to deals with who knows how many ghosts and beasts? He focused his attention on the problem he could currently handle. Sam's injury.

"You need to get your arm fixed up, it's still bleeding."

Sam glanced down at his injury and made a face, "I'm fine, but can you believe it was made by fingernails?"

"That's disgusting," Dean didn't want an argument right now, so he just reached over and pushed the emergency button on the arm of his bed.

In a matter of seconds two nurses sprinted in like football players, expecting the worst. They were met by a grinning patient instead. "Those buttons work better than the ones on an airplane," Dean said happily.

"It's not a toy," snapped one of the nurses. She caught sight of the bloodied arm cradled to Sam's chest and fell silent. She got to work on Sam's injury with a last look of annoyance at Dean.

"So let's see that journal, I'm curious." Dean said once the nurse had left and Sam was seated back down with fresh gauze wrapped around his arm like a sleeve. The younger Winchester picked up the journal he had placed at the foot of the bed and cracked it open.

Dean fidgeted impatiently as Sam carefully read the fine script. It was only fifteen pages long, leaving the rest of the journal blank. It appeared to have been saved solely for the story of the unicorns, for it mentioned nothing else. Sam made a several gasping noises, which didn't help his brother's patience any. By the time he closed the journal, Dean was shaking his shoulder impatiently.

"What does it say??" Sam barely heard him, staring at the book that contained a horror story. He wasn't sure if he wanted to rescue this town anymore. At Dean's nudging, Sam dropped the book and looked at his brother.

"Not only did the townspeople's ancestors take over the land, they used the unicorns as slaves. When the leader, Alom, tried to start a rebellion to escape, he was tortured and forced to watch his family die." Sam paused for a moment, "Then they did something they had never done before. The worst thing that could happen to a unicorn. They took his horn."

Dean's eyes widened, that act was enough to bring back a unicorn's spirit, even if it didn't explain the timing. "So what are we looking for?"

"Alom's horn. It says the townspeople burned all the bones to keep bad luck away."

"Bastards. Can't we leave them to die?"

"I don' think that's really an option."

"So if all the unicorn's bones were burned except the horn, why were there more than one unicorn appearing?"

Sam gave his brother a sideways look. His brother must have hit his head hard and got his brain scrambled. He was actually thinking for once. Sam shrugged, the theory that banging on a broken soda machine fixes it must be true for Dean too. It made sense, his brother was a soda machine.

Pushing himself off the bed, the younger WInchester gathered up the journal, "I'm going back to the motel to figure some stuff out. I wasn't able to read bits and pieces of the journal, nor the last page because it's too messy. Kind of like your writing, so I've had soem practice --"

"Haha," Dean cut his brother, rolling his eyes.

Sam shushed him, "If I have time, I'll find the horn and burn it, but if not, I'm going to the next house to get the people out. You stay here and rest." Dean seemed compliant with everything his brother said until he heard the last five words.

"What? I'm not staying here! That's a funny one Sammy..." Dean growled, sitting up in bed while swallowing a gasp of pain.

"I'm serious, you need to rest. Besides, you'll only get in the way."

The older hunter snorted with laughter. It was Sammy's job to get in the way, not his. As he attempted to stand up, his knees wobbled and he paled as pain roared up through his body. He tried to mask his weakness by sitting down before he fell down.

Dean waved hi hand casually, "Fine, but you better hurry. If you get killed, I will bring you back to life just to kill you again, understand?"

Frowning, Sam nodded. His brother must really be in pain if he agreed to stay behind. Just before he moved away from the bed to leave, Dean grabbed his shoulder and added, "And if you screw up my car, I'll kill you a third time. Maybe a fourth."

Sam ducked out the doorway, deciding against telling his brother that the car was already wrecked thanks to him. His death might be premature and he had to get rid of the unicorns first.

Back in the motel, Sam poured over the journal, deciphering the words that were smashed together and faded until the pages blurred. He sat back and rubbed his eyes, what he had decoded so far wasn't good news. As he had told Dean, all bones had been burned, but in one of the paragraphs he had just analyzed, he found out that not all bones were burned. The skull had been put on display, but it didn't mention where, and Sam bet the location had probably moved anyway since that time.

With the bad news, Sam found more good news, the location of Alom's horn. The journal said it had been presented to the Mayor as a present, and Sam hoped the family still had it. That would make his job easier.

Piecing together a sentence that didn't make sense, Sam flipped on the light to chase away the settling darkness. "Unicorn... talk. Is that talk? Lock? Lake?" Sam muttered to himself, squinting at the page to try to fit the scribbling into a word that made sense. It took a moment before it clicked.

"Oh my God." Sam stared at the journal in disbelief. "Unicorns can talk?" It was unmistakable now, the words jumped from the page. Unicorns were smart creatures that could talk and reason. The thought sent chills down Sam's spine. The townspeople massacred reasoning creatures for the land.

Shaking himself from his stupor, Sam checked the time and cursed. It was getting late and he doubted finding the horn and the artifacts could be done before the unicorns arrived. As he reached for the journal, something set off alarm bells in his head. Anyone else would have shrugged it off as a power surge, but Sam knew better. His eyes lingered down to the lamp that flickered in warning.

Before he could turn around, something slammed into his head. Cold, inhuman laughter was the last thing Sam heard as he slipped to the ground.

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Sorry for the wait, I just started a new original story. Enjoy!

Please take a few seconds to click on the review button, you know it makes me write faster :) I think it's scientifically proven that reviewing helps get writers over their writers block (not that I have that -). If not, it should be.


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